


The Dangers of Baking

by WeekendWriter



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Kaiju, Cussing, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Snark, holiday baking, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:18:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9062065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeekendWriter/pseuds/WeekendWriter
Summary: Raleigh threw up his hands. He swore Chuck still actively tried to be difficult. “You know I don’t get to call Jaz all that often, especially during the holidays.”“Apparently you don’t bake all that often, either.” Chuck dug the spoon into the bowl of batter in his hand with even more vigor. Or, in which even baking cookies for a holiday party goes horribly awry.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this involved characters failing to bake cookies for a holiday party and fighting in the grocery store when they went to buy some and whoops my hand slipped have some smut instead. 
> 
> Happy Holidays!

“What’s that smell?”

Raleigh padded into the kitchen and wrinkled his nose in disdain. Something not so buttery-and-vanilla smelling was wafting from the oven. A gray cloud emerged the second he crossed the threshold. 

Smoke.

“Dammit, Chuck!” Raleigh lunged for the nearest dish towel to wave as he bolted for a window. “I was gone for what, five minutes?!” 

The face that poked out from the cabinets was covered in enough flour to obscure the freckles. “Oi, they’re fine!”

“Like hell they are!” The cookies Raleigh removed from the oven were far from fine; the edges were an extra-crispy dark-brown, the middle just the wrong side of golden. “This is the second screwed batch.”

His partner snorted. “Only cause you were on the phone during the first one.”

Raleigh threw up his hands. He swore Chuck still actively _tried_ to be an ass. “You know I don’t get to call Jaz all that often, especially during the holidays.”

“Apparently you don’t bake all that often, either.” Chuck dug the spoon into the bowl of batter in his hands with even more vigor. 

With a sigh, Raleigh scraped the lost causes into the trash. It wasn’t all Chuck’s fault. The two of them should have been perfectly capable of watching over a batch of cookies. But Chuck’s nerves and his yearly holiday phone calls were a recipe for disaster; he should have known that from the start.

It just would have been nice to bring homemade cookies to the holiday party to prove to everyone that moving in together hadn’t, in fact, dampened their ability to put up with each other. Raleigh was half-sure there was a running bet on how long they'd make it before one of them killed the other. 

Chuck’s mood swings were now few and far between but that didn’t make navigating them any easier. Raleigh watched as the Australian moved about the space with bunched knuckles and a furrowed brow. The earlier jibe was just that; out of the two of them, Raleigh was the one that did most of the cooking. And Chuck still didn’t have enough patience to navigate rush-hour traffic without reducing some poor sap to a quivering mess of a breakdown, let alone enough patience for the intricacies of baking. 

Case in point: 

“Think you can actually keep an eye on these ones, Ray?”

Raleigh sighed. The only reason Chuck was being such an ass today was his nerves. Which was fair, he supposed. It was the first Christmas party they’d be attending as a serious couple. They'd started dating shortly after last year’s party and ended up moving in together just before November. People still gave them shit for moving so quickly, but it was just _them_. Raleigh had no trouble telling those with that opinion to shove it, thank you very much. Chuck was far more concerned about what family thought of the whole thing, and it was the perfectionist in his ginger partner that dictated that everything go smoothly on this, the most wonderful day of the year. 

And so far, the day had gone any way but.

With a long-suffering sigh, Raleigh gripped the counter. “Yeah, Chuckles. I think I can watch them from here.”

He only brought out that nickname when Chuck was _really_ being a little shit. And said little shit had finally picked up on it, if the sudden wideness of his sharp eyes was any indication. Raleigh simply took the bowl from him and ignored the wide-eyed expression in favor of putting the next batch in. 

“Ray—”

“Just—” It was hard not to feed into Chuck’s sour mood, but today he really couldn’t afford to, couldn't give in to the gnawing urge to snip back when they would have to play nice with just about everyone they considered family in just under an hour. “Not now, Chuck. My non-baking ass has to watch this batch _undistracted_ so I don’t fuck up _yet again_.”

Chuck winced. “Come on, Ray. That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is getting berated by someone who doesn’t even know the difference between baking powder and baking soda,” Raleigh snorted. “Go on. Why don’t you go primp for your perfect party? You’ve got a little bit of—” He trailed off and gestured below his cheek to where his boyfriend did indeed still have a smattering of flour covering his dimple. And damn, that cuteness did make it difficult to remain mad at the idiot. 

“I do not, you drongo.” 

Ah, there was the stubborn asshole he’d come to know and love. Another snappy retort bubbled to the surface but Raleigh bit it back. It was Christmas, for fuck’s sake, and they were trading insults like five-year-old kids instead of appreciating the first Christmas they were spending together in their own home. 

Instead of giving in to a snarky remark, Raleigh lifted the spoon out of the bowl and gave it a quick flick. Chuck’s scowl morphed to an expression of shock as the cookie batter splattered across the cheek in question. Some of it rolled down the fair skin and dropped to the floor; the rest stuck as he’d hoped it would. Raleigh couldn’t resist the giggle that tore from his chest as he struck again, this time bombarding Chuck’s freckled shoulders. 

“I swear to fuck, Raleigh—you fucking whacker—cut it the fuck out!” The ginger raised his hands in defense but waved off the attack poorly. Within seconds, he was sticky and covered in the occasional chocolate chip and turning on Raleigh with murderous intent. 

On a whim, Raleigh dropped the bowl to the counter and boxed the volatile man in at the counter. His palms were coated in flour the second he planted them on the granite behind Chuck. He used his hips to hold the bulkier man in place and grinned into that still-shocked face. 

“Now, you’ve definitely got a bit of schmutz on your face,” Raleigh murmured.

It was quite ballsy to get this close to the wild and angry Australian Asshole, but Raleigh stood his ground long enough to notice the change. Chuck’s tense shoulders finally dropped, those blue-green eyes softened, and he gave in to mirror Raleigh’s infectious grin with a smirk of his own.

“Oh, you cheeky fucker.” Chuck’s grumbling laugh shook Raleigh’s own chest. 

The contact was surprisingly nice. Despite wearing only a gray wife-beater (“because the kitchen’s fucking hot when you bake, Ray”) Chuck radiated heat and Raleigh found himself longing to feel more of it. And although the cookies were coming out abysmally, maybe the dough was at least good…

“That’ll be you, hopefully.” Raleigh latched on to the skin just below Chuck’s jaw, sucking the dough there off with an appreciative sound. Buttery, chocolatey, and just a hint of vanilla.

Chuck groaned. “Fuck, Raleigh—”

He loved hearing his name like that, rolling deep from Chuck's chest . Raleigh peeled the thin shirt over those freckled shoulders and tossed the article of clothing to the other end of the kitchen. The rest of said shoulders and now that wide, firm chest were all his. 

It wasn’t that sex fixed everything for them. They weren’t one of those couples that just ignored their problems in favor of fucking it out or one that hoped good sex would be enough to negate any deal breakers. No, they were both working on bettering their communication skills and times like this reminded Raleigh how grateful he was that they were putting in that work. Chuck was passionate, caring, and applied the same amount of effort to their relationship as he did to everything; dating a perfectionist had its perks.

Like now especially. Chuck’s rumbling groans increased in volume as Raleigh licked and sucked the dough from that wonderfully freckled skin and moved to his nipples. The ginger entertained Raleigh’s actions just long enough before he snaked his arms around Raleigh and flipped their positions. Raleigh’s breath left his lungs as Chuck slammed him backwards. He pressed a silent apology to Raleigh’s lips, then went in for a kiss that moved to just downright _filthy_.

Those large yet nimble hands deftly worked his belt open before Raleigh felt his pants and boxers yanked to the knees in one tug. Replacing the belt with him, Chuck then worked his hand up Raleigh’s shaft in a stroke that practically left his knees shaking.

“Chuck, please—”

“I’ve got you, love.” Chuck’s breath fanned over his cheek as the ginger reached further down the counter.

“Chuck, I swear to God, if you try to lube me up with cookie dough—”

The Australian snorted. “Not a chance, love. Though I do wonder what it’d be like to lick that off your cock. Just reaching for this—” The sentence cut off with a strained noise as Chuck reached for the nearest cabinet, dug behind the spices, and produced an honest-to-God bottle of lube.

“In the kitchen, Chuck?!”

Chuck cocked one eyebrow, his hand stalling on Raleigh’s length. “You complaining, love?”

Raleigh flushed slightly. They didn’t entertain company often, but the thought of having to explain to one of their middle-aged neighbors why the two kids next door kept _lube_ in the goddamn spice rack was not a pleasant one. He finally settled on, “No.”

A flick of the cap and then Chuck dove to open him swiftly with two dexterous fingers. “Thought not, love.” Chuck worked him quickly, just this side of rough, and Raleigh cried out when those fingers finally brushed over his prostate.

“Chuck—babe, come on, please—”

A third finger and another few minutes because Chuck was a vindictive jerk that just liked hearing him beg, and then Chuck’s hands raced up the backs of his thighs as the ginger hoisted him up. Raleigh had just enough time to lean his elbows on the counter to help support some of the weight before Chuck pushed inside in one long, agonizing thrust. 

“Fuck, Raleigh, you feel so—” Chuck pulled nearly all the way back out before slamming back in with another grunt. 

Raleigh’s head banged against the cabinet in the process, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as Chuck gave two more measured thrusts before he really cut loose. There were some nights that Chuck surprised him with surprisingly gentle love-making, nights when those broad shoulders would cage him in a passionate embrace as Chuck rocked slowly into him. And then there were nights like this when Chuck would take control and give them what they both needed, quick and dirty, reminding Raleigh just how well Chuck had come to know him and all the things he liked. It was a trade-off; the competitive nature led to plenty of arguments over the year, but plenty of phenomenal orgasms, too. 

Like now, when he could feel that pleasure that built low and rose quickly. Raleigh gasped out Chuck’s name one last time before his boyfriend freed one hand long enough to work his cock until Raleigh’s orgasm punched out of him. Chuck grinned, his face flushed and strained, the muscles in his shoulders standing out with the effort of holding him up. The freckled ginger was gorgeous and, even with all his flaws, an impressive partner inside the bedroom and out. 

Chuck thrusted a few more more before he followed Raleigh over that edge. He pressed another kiss to the corner of Raleigh’s mouth and leaned that normally-tense forehead against his. “Love you,” Chuck murmured lowly. “You know that, yeah?”

Raleigh, who was already stunned by the force of his orgasm, simply blinked at his partner. “Yeah.” After he took a few seconds to collect his thoughts, he added, “Of course I know that, you sap. A little argument isn’t going to change that.”

Those dimples Raleigh had such a weakness for emerged as Chuck’s face finally relaxed in a grin. “Yeah. Still nice to hear, love. I know I’m not exactly the easiest to live with, let alone be wi—”

Raleigh silenced the ginger with a kiss. Chuck still had his insecurities, despite the usual arrogance he flaunted around. Raleigh returned the grin and was almost overwhelmed by how much fondness he felt for his partner. “You—”

A sudden smell jerked his head sideways. “Oh FUCK—”

“ _Goddamn it_ you wanker, is that the cookies?!”

Raleigh shoved that broad body away from his and dropped to his feet. The hot pan he removed from the oven and held cautiously away from his half-naked self held several cookies just the wrong side of done. He sighed. 

“Mr. ‘I’ll watch the cookies undistracted this time’,” Chuck said with a snort.

“You just _haaaaaaad_ to stash lube in the kitchen,” Raleigh shot back.

But neither statement held any amount of venom. In fact, this time Chuck shot him another grin instead of a glare. Like the cookies, their relationship wasn’t perfect, but there was just the right amount of sweetness and effort in both, and Raleigh wouldn’t have things any other way.

 

 

Herc glanced between them and the plate holding the sad-looking handful of cookies that survived the baking experience. “Run out of supplies or something, mate?”

Raleigh forced a smile that turned real when he thought about the events that led to the remaining cookies and shrugged casually. “Nah, just not the best at baking. Your son’s good at keeping the spice cabinet stocked and ready.”

Chuck choked on his drink and turned a deep shade of red.


End file.
